


The Last Griffin

by octaviaromanoff (sapphicleksa)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (who knows what other characters are going to show up your guess is as good as mine), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, BAMF Octavia, Blake Family, Eventual Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, F/M, Fantasy, POV Bellamy Blake, POV Clarke Griffin, Princess Clarke, Protective Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:22:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4544739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicleksa/pseuds/octaviaromanoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is a princess, sent away to a remote tower to learn to control the curse she has come to love; turning into a dragon isn't all bad. She doesn't know, though, that her land has been conquered, her parents have been killed, and there is a vast fortune waiting for the one who brings her to the man calling himself king.<br/>He is a refugee, running from war and violence with the sister he loves more than life itself. He wants only to see her safe and smiling once more.<br/>Clarke and Bellamy have worlds of differences between them, but there's a fire at both of their cores that seeks company, and connects them in more ways than one.<br/>When the knight wears battered armor and the dragon and the princess are one, the love that arises is radical and rare, and may be enough to change the course of a kingdom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Griffin

_ The whole realm seemed to have forgotten that she was locked away because of a curse; her absence (and the death of her parents) had made her a myth. She was the last Griffin, the golden-haired beauty, the princess that, if snared, would guarantee a man titles and wealth beyond dreams. Her parents’ murderer, her peoples’ conquerer, needed her.But whether he needed her dead and out of his way, or as a wife and a trophy, a legitimate claim to the throne, no one could say; all they knew was that he wanted her. _

_ It had been a month since he took power, since he issued his call for knights and farm boys to win him his prize, and win themselves gold, jewels, power. A month without results; her tower was far-flung and hidden, its location known only to a handful (the conqueror-king not one of them) while the rest searched blindly, a fierce challenge for even the most seasoned warrior. _

_ As for the princess herself, more fearsome still. _

 

Clarke didn’t know why she was suddenly attracting all of this attention. Well, by most standards, three riders didn’t count as attracting much attention at all, but it was enough to confuse her, especially when her tower was further from the rest of humanity than she’d ever thought she’d be, and when all of said humanity was under the impression that she was cursed.

She considered herself blessed.

It hurt, though, whatever it was, as beautiful as it was. Wings bursting from her back, skin shifting to scales, body growing and elongating; it wasn’t a painless process. But it was a good pain, like breaking off a scab: all the better because you knew you shouldn’t. It was letting the beast within her free.

Out here, deep within the mountains too steep for most horses and the forests too dark for most men, she could let her soul sing in ways that the palaces and parties she had been born into didn’t allow.

That was why the sight of the men stirred fear in her heart: they were a reminder. A reminder that she would have to go back; it was want her parents wanted, why they’d sent her away. She would learn to control her curse-blessing in the space of open air, then return home a true princess to live out her life in stuffy corridors (she now wondered why they’d ever thought this was a good idea, giving her a taste of freedom). Part of her feared that they had come, so relatively many at once, to retrieve her back to court, which was why she had given them a fearsome sight that would make them hesitant to come closer. They never knew the tower was empty, that _she_ was the beast sending plumes of fire into the air.

They were supposed to give her a year, though. It had only been half of that. Six months of solitude. Bliss. The ungainly half-shifts of the first weeks turned to full, complete change, and soon she was on four legs more often than two. When she was a dragon, she didn’t have to worry about going back to jewel-encrusted dresses and marriage; she only had to focus on finding a clearing large enough to nap in.

This open space in particular, bordered by wildflowers and sparse trees with enough space to land and curl up comfortably, was her favorite. She hit the ground gently, not wanting to gouge claw marks in the soft bed of grass, and folded first her wings, then her entire body, curled up in a circle like a cat. No one would disturb her here, even in the light of the afternoon. 

Clarke sighed, dark smoke curling up from her nostrils, and closed her eyes, relaxing into sleep.

xXx

Bellamy blessed the girl at his side every day. She was the reason he still lived, through the death of their mother, war and bloodshed, biting hunger, the ache of feet that had been moving for days on end without rest. They were in a place of darkness now, of jagged mountains and deep forests that they would avoid if they listened to legend: creatures of magic, more foul than fair, walked here.

But they had no choice. Their land had been devastated, and he refused to travel any place where they might be separated by violence or greed or desire. At least here he understood their rivals; fleeing deer wanted only to live, snarling wolves wanted only to protect their territory, and the wind and weather wanted nothing at all. He could not understand men who raped and murdered for the pleasure of it, nor did he want to.

Octavia walked next to him now, a grim look on a face which had once radiated joy. She’d suffered too much; she deserved better. He could not give her better, not by much, but he would give her everything he had, if only to make her smile again. She had always been a warrior, true, but she had always had a grin tucked in her pocket, and laughter had come easily to her.

“We should set up camp soon,” he suggested. It was still light out, but the sun was already sinking, and this wasn’t a place to be without shelter at night.

She nodded. “The trees are thinning out up ahead; there should be clearing soon.” She was right, of course; Octavia had always loved the earth, the small wood by what used to be their home **,** her favorite haunt. A smile touched his lips at the memory of his sister, tiny, sneaking even tinier creatures into her room to care for. 

The smile, faint though it was, faded. Now Octavia had no time to raise orphan sparrows and wounded squirrels, however much she wanted to; she only hunted them. They needed the food.

The clearing was barely a clearing, more like an unusually large gap between trees, but it was enough for the two of them, and they didn’t want to risk going further. Octavia set her patched, faded pack on the ground, though she kept her weapons: bow, quiver of arrows, sword, hunting dagger. All dusty and worn, but all cared for with as much attention as she had once given her animals. She slept with them on.

“Are you going hunting?”

“Yes. Are you good here?”

“Yeah, O. Be careful.”

That earned him a hint of a smirk. “I’m always careful, big brother.”

Bellamy sincerely doubted that was true, but he could trust her by herself; he _had_ to trust her by herself. Still, though, he couldn’t stop the thin thread of worry that always came out when he watched her leave. What if she didn’t come back?

He couldn’t think like that. He focused on gathering firewood, building a quick shelter — should he build something more? They would have to stop walking at some point, and they hadn’t seen another soul in a week, not since they entered this steep forest. Right now, there was still level ground, still lush grass, but he could see that further up the mountains, the trees and grass became sparser, replaced by nearly vertical rock. They had to choose: stay here, where someone might still find them and destroy the fragile peace they’d built, or go higher, where few if any would dare venture, but where they would find it difficult to live.

Perhaps he should put more effort than usual into the sturdiness of this shelter. He worked steadily, his hands finding a familiar rhythm in their motions, and he didn’t notice the time slipping away until the sky was shot through with pinks and purples…and Octavia was still not back.

He wouldn’t worry; he couldn’t allow himself to do that. Knowing his sister, she was probably still stalking down a herd of deer and hadn’t realized she’d been gone so long. All he’d have to do was catch up with her, like he’d done so many times before, just to make sure she wasn’t in trouble or had hurt herself.

Bellamy may not have been as one with nature as his sister, but he knew how to follow a trail, especially Octavia’s; he’d been sneaking up on her since they were kids and he knew the tiny signs, the little clues, that were hallmarks of her passing. He moved quickly, for though the sun was still visible and the full moon had a bright light of her own, night was no friend to the tracker, or the injured. He wove through trees, back in the direction they’d come from, down to a small creek. Here, she’d turned, suddenly: something had drawn her attention. An animal? Another person?

He picked up the pace, hand hovering near the sword at his hip, just in case, but if it was something that needed fighting, Octavia knew what she was doing. The trees were thinning out now, and he wondered what she’d gotten up to — then he saw it. Gleaming, golden, _giant._ He didn’t even know there were dragons left in the world. It was curled in a clearing, eyes closed, smoke rising every now and then, lazily. 

_Octavia._

He saw her. She stood by the beast’s muzzle, her outline obscured for a moment in hazy grey, but it was her. Inches away from death and with an expression of wonder, curiosity, no fear at all. 

Bellamy was afraid to speak. He wanted to rush in, throw her over his shoulder like a child, and get the hell out of here — but fast as he was, he knew he couldn’t be quicker than a dragon. It was sleeping now. Maybe they could leave quietly and slowly. He waved his arm, but she didn’t see him. She was too entranced the glimmering scales of a creature that by all rights shouldn’t even exist. Perhaps the dragon sensed her presence. Perhaps, even in its dreams, the beast could smell the girl before it.

It opened a bright blue eye.


End file.
